Hedda (slowly, and wearily). No, we shall really have to set up as Fairies in reduced circumstances, now.
George (cheering up). Still, we shall see Aunt JULIE every day, and that will be something, and I've got back my old slippers. We shan't be altogether without some amusements, eh?
Hedda (crosses the floor). Not while I have one thing to amuse myself with, at all events.
George (beaming with joy). Oh, Heaven be praised and thanked for that! My goodness, so you have! And what may that be, HEDDA, eh?
Hedda (at the doorway, with suppressed scorn). Yes, GEORGE, you have the old slippers of the attentive Aunt, and I have the horse-pistols of the deceased General!
George (in an agony). The pistols! Oh, my goodness! what pistols?
Hedda (with cold eyes). General GABLER'S pistols—same which I shot—(recollecting herself)—no, that's THACKERAY, not IBSEN—a very different person. [She goes through the back Drawing-room.
George (at doorway, shouting after her). Dearest HEDDA, not those dangerous things, eh? Why, they have never once been known to shoot straight yet! Don't! Have a catapult. For my sake, have a catapult! [Curtain.